<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Attempts at Tranquility by FaintlyMacabre</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673433">Attempts at Tranquility</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaintlyMacabre/pseuds/FaintlyMacabre'>FaintlyMacabre</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Penumbra Podcast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Kinda, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), Sickfic, Sir Angelo is a Good Friend, This is Real Soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:54:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaintlyMacabre/pseuds/FaintlyMacabre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sir Damien wakes up with a sore throat and cannot pray.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast), Sir Angelo &amp; Sir Damien (Penumbra Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702642</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Attempts at Tranquility</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralknight/gifts">floralknight</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Bad Things Happen Bingo: Sore Throat with Damien/RAD Bouquet (do we put that in all caps? I have no idea. I'm gonna do it.) Thank you so much for the prompt!</p><p>Just a heads-up: the tone here is sometimes a bit silly because the source material is sometimes a bit silly, but no mockery is leveled at the character suffering from the sore throat and panic attacks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something wasn’t quite right when Damien awoke in the barracks. The mattress was firm beneath him, the slightly scratchy blanket was warm and familiar around him, and brilliant sunlight poured over him through the high window. All seemed as it should be, but…</p><p> </p><p>“Sa—” There it was. He tried to pray and but his throat felt as dry and rough as sandstone. No, no, no, he needed his voice, there must be something he could… “Saint Da—” No, it was no good; the words seemed to claw at his throat, as though they were determined to stay where they were and would tear him to pieces in order to do so.</p><p> </p><p>His patron could see what was in his heart, couldn’t he? Even if he couldn’t speak the words aloud? <em>Saint Damien oh saint grant me tranquility grant me I need please grant me Saint Damien I am so… </em>Without his voice to give them form, the words crowded in on each other and refused to line up properly, they swelled and faded and choked him until he could barely breathe.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir Damien, I— oh dear.” The booming words barely registered, but he noticed when Sir Angelo sat down across from him. “Sir Damien, everything is all right. Would you like to breathe with me?” When Damien had gotten his breathing back under control, Sir Angelo said, “Can you tell me what has happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sir Angelo, I…”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, I see.” Damien waited for his friend and rival to tell him he would be fine in no time— Sir Angelo was nothing if not a fount of positivity— but the knight just sat there with his brow furrowed. “That is unfortunate.”</p><p> </p><p>But if even Sir Angelo had no words of encouragement for him…! The world around Damien faded into static and shadows as his throat and lungs seized up again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Damien!” That voice cut through everything. Damien blinked. How did he get to Rilla’s hut?</p><p> </p><p>“Lady Amaryllis—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just Rilla, Angelo.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lady Rilla,” Sir Angelo amended, and Rilla rolled her eyes. “Sir Damien is not well. I could think of no better place to bring him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Sir Angelo,” Rilla said. “I really appreciate your looking out for him like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Think nothing of it, Lady Rilla,” Sir Angelo said. “What are best rivals for?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll take him from here,” Rilla said, and the scope of Damien’s vision was widening, and he could see as well as feel Rilla place one of his arms over her capable shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Lady Rilla, I can bring Sir Damien inside. It will be no trouble for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s no trouble for me either, Sir Angelo.” Damien briefly wondered at the edge in her voice, but it soon clicked: Arum must be inside. The thought of being with both of his loves, as well as the need to keep Angelo out of the hut, did much to revive him.</p><p> </p><p>“It is fine, my friend,” he managed to rasp. “I can—” Here his voice gave out completely, but he was able to take some weight off of Rilla’s shoulders and stand more steadily.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, well, of course, if you are sure,” Sir Angelo said, still hovering.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re sure,” Rilla said as Damien nodded. Sir Angelo nodded back.</p><p> </p><p>“I hope that you feel better soon, Sir Damien.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Sir Angelo,” Rilla said again, and Sir Angelo started away at his usual brisk trot, the sound of his “hup, hup, hup!” fading into the distance. “Wow. He really just picked you up and ran you over here, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Damien opened his mouth, closed it again, and shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, Damien, let’s get you inside.” Together, they made their uneven way over to the door. As expected, Arum was waiting for them.</p><p> </p><p>“Honeysuckle! What happened?” Rilla passed Damien over and Arum reached for him. His lower arms wrapped around Damien while his other hands cupped his face and carded through his hair. “I heard that thundering knight say you were unwell, but—”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s lost his voice,” Rilla said. “Sounds like a sore throat, too. Does it hurt, Damien?” Damien nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that it?” He thought it was foolish of Damien, of course he did.</p><p> </p><p>“Arum!” Rilla said. Perhaps he was right; perhaps Damien wasn’t quite the brave, capable knight he’d thought himself. <em>Saint Damien please please grant me I need tranquility not good enough…</em></p><p> </p><p>“Honeysuckle, you have had multiple broken bones before,” Arum said. “The first time we fought, your leg was broken in— how many places?” Damien couldn’t look Arum in the eye, but he held up a hand with all five fingers extended. “And you weren’t even concerned about that. Why is this—"</p><p> </p><p>“He can’t speak, Arum,” Rilla said from behind Damien. “He can’t pray.”</p><p> </p><p>Arum said nothing. Of course. Damien must seem so silly to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you lie down, Damien?” Rilla said. “I’ll make you something that’ll help.” Arum started to accompany him to Rilla’s cot, but Damien shrugged away from his hands. He refused to take advantage of the monster’s pity.</p><p> </p><p>“Honeysuckle, I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Arum,” Rilla said pointedly, “why don’t you come help me with the herbs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of— of course, Amaryllis,” Damien heard Arum say as he made his way to the cot.</p><p> </p><p>Damien took off his boots, lay down, and squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps when he woke up he would be better. Perhaps when he woke up he could— what? Challenge Arum to a duel? If he won, Arum would have to validate his worries contrary to his true opinion, and if Damien lost he would have to admit that he was just the silly little knight Arum saw when he looked at him. What was the way forward? <em>Saint Damien please need your guidance your tranquility please need this to be over…</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Honeysuckle.” Damien opened his eyes. He hadn’t thought much time had passed, but the shadows were longer now. He curled in on himself tighter. “Honeysuckle, I… apologize. I did not consider what further effects you would be suffering. It was thoughtless of me.”</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps he was only saying what Rilla had told him to say. Perhaps he didn’t mean any of it.</p><p> </p><p>“Your saint can read, can he not?” At this, Damien turned to look at Arum, who was indeed looking regretful, and carrying a large hardback book, a pen, ink, and several sheets of paper. “While speaking may be impossible, perhaps you can write down your prayers. I hope— I hope this helps you find the tranquility you need.” He set everything down on the cot next to Damien and started exit.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait.” Only the consonants were audible, but Arum heard and turned to face Damien again. Damien found no scorn in his violet eyes, only worry and a wish to make things right. Damien sat up and held out a hand to Arum, who slowly closed the distance between them, one tentative hand reaching for Damien’s. Damien pressed a soft kiss to Arum’s knuckles and looked up at him, still holding on.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Rilla came in with a mug of the medicinal tea she’d been brewing, she found Arum dozing against the wall and Damien curled up next to him, filling a second page with his careful, curving script. When he looked up and gave her a small, weak smile, she smiled back and sat down on his other side, close enough to share warmth, but giving him room to write the words he so needed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! This was my first Second Citadel fic ever and I was nervous! I'm @princegabriel on Tumblr if you'd like to request a prompt for Bad Things Happen Bingo :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>